


in sight of gods and men

by afewreelthoughts



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Clothing Porn, M/M, Weddings, alternate universe - homosexuality accepted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 17:24:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19322734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afewreelthoughts/pseuds/afewreelthoughts
Summary: "What do you do to calm yourself down before tourneys?" Margaery asks, taking his hands."I don't get nervous at tourneys," he says."And there's no need to be nervous today!"He rolls his eyes. "I know that," he whines. "It's stupid." And it is: Ser Loras Tyrell, fearless knight, weak in the knees on the day of his wedding.





	in sight of gods and men

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ennta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ennta/gifts).



> I own nothing and make no money from this. Everything belongs to George R.R. Martin.

The cloak is heavy on his shoulders. Loras picks at the beading along the edge. "All of this finery, just to be worn once? It seems excessive, even for Father."

 

"I'll wear it when I get married," Margaery says, smoothing the fabric at his shoulders, "if you'll let me?"

 

Loras nods. He wishes there were a mirror somewhere, to take it all in again. Loras spent the morning studying his image: the fantastically ornate cloak over a gold tunic accented in black, his hair pulled into braids at his forehead and temples only an inch or two long, the rest of his curls flowing free. Standing now in the gardens outside the sept, waiting for their father, he doesn't need a mirror, he knows stress is wrinkling his brow.

 

"What do you do to calm yourself down before tourneys?" Margaery asks, taking his hands.

 

His sister looks beautiful. The colors of their house look dull against her glowing skin, and her thick curls are pulled all into a single braid.

 

 _Because people shouldn't be looking at me today,_ she had said. _All eyes on you._

 

"I don't get nervous at tourneys," he says.

 

"And there's no need to be nervous today!"

 

He rolls his eyes. " _I know that_ ," he whines.

 

"Then why - "

 

"I don't know! It's stupid. Most maids are nervous about their wedding nights, but I know what's coming!"

 

Margaery's eyebrows rise. "And you know _who's_ coming?"

 

"Oh stop it!" He wants to sound stern, but he can't help but smile a little.

 

"I'm just trying to lighten the mood," she says. "You were excited all morning, and now you seem like we're leading you off to war."

 

"What if everything changes?" He feels ill just saying it, but Margaery always brings the truth out of him. "What if, after years and years, what if marriage makes us grow tired of each other."

 

"That won't happen to you and Renly. You won't let it."

 

"It happened to Robert! He became a different man entirely..." The image of Renly like that, sad and grown older than his years, his thick hair gone thin and greasy with neglect... it makes Ser Loras Tyrell, fearless knight, weak in the knees on the day of his wedding.

 

His father's booming laugh cuts through the tall hedges.

 

"I'm here to escort my son to his wedding!" he announces as he appears around a bush of red roses. He claps a hand on Loras's shoulder and shouts. "My son's getting married!" as if all of Highgarden were not already decked out for the occasion.

 

He places his other hand on Loras's other shoulder. "Look at you..." And then he shakes his head. "Your mother was right not to put you in white. You're not a maid, you're my son." He lifts a hand then pulls it back to his side, as if resisting the urge to tousle Loras's hair.

 

When word arrived at Highgarden that the king had given Renly his permission to wed, Mace Tyrell had been the happiest man in Westeros and immediately began making a list of everyone who was, in his words, "between Loras and the throne."

 

"That's not how it works," Loras had explained to him, still wrapped tight in Margaery's arms. She had been holding him since he opened the message from King's Landing. "I'm not in line for anything."

 

"But you could be..."

 

"Father!" Margaery said. "Loras is going to be happy, and that's more important than anything else!"

 

Watching his family leap with joy that day made Loras wonder why he did not feel as exuberant. He had wanted to marry Renly for years, and now that it was happening, he felt... what did he feel?

 

As a child, Loras dreamed of fighting for the favor of a beautiful man, but always as a member of a kingsguard, as a great jouster or wandering knight. What would he do as consort to the Lord of Storm's End and the King's Own Brother? Would they play in Shipbreaker Bay and the forests around it? Would they tempt each other from their duties to the realm with the promise of new adventures? Would he spend his days defending Renly's honor? And defending him from what? Cruel rumors at court? From being blinded by Baelish's garish wardrobe?

 

The truth was, no matter how much they loved each other, this dazzling ceremony had nothing to do with any of it. Marriages are about power and alliances, and there would have been no official match had both his father and King Robert not approved. It makes Loras's great romance into something very unromantic.

 

His father's round face before him, haloed in the foliage of Highgarden, beams as he takes Loras's arm. Margaery slips ahead of them to tell the guards to open the doors.

 

The sept is filled with light, streaming in through windows and catching on the crystal around Septon Alyn's neck. His family stands at the front of the sept, Garlan on one side of the aisle with Margaery and Leonette, Willas on the other, hand braced on his carved cane, alongside their mother. Renly's cloak looks, if anything, even heavier than Loras's, sigil made up of black velvet and heavy embroidery on cloth-of-gold. Then Loras looks up at his face.

 

That must be where the light is coming from. He is not smiling his perfect smile, but still beaming and looking at Loras as though he's the only other person in the world.

 

Loras's father leads him up the steps to stand next to Renly. Then before the crowd, they take hands and kneel.

 

Septon Alyn welcomes them all, and then the ceremony begins in earnest, prayer and singing, and Loras is glad they moved pews and seats into the sept, and thick cushions for he and Renly to kneel on.

 

When in the weeks before, Loras had shared his annoyance over how long marriage ceremonies could be, Renly had grinned at him. "I don't think kneeling that long will be a problem for either of us."

 

Loras bites his lip as he remembers, and his face must betray that he is not thinking of the Mother's mercy.

 

Renly remains perfectly composed, for all the world looking like his mind is on nothing but the gods, and Loras wants to punch him. Not enough to wound, he's not feeling that petty, but to snap him out of the pretty little show he's putting on.

It's not even that much of a crowd gathered here in the sept - Loras had liked it that way, and Renly hadn't batted an eye when both Robert and Stannis sent gifts, but begged leave not to attend the ceremony itself. Who is Renly performing for?

 

At long last Septon Alyn asks them to stand, and Loras's father approaches again to lift the cloak from his son's shoulders. Renly unclasps his own cloak and drapes it over Loras in its place. Loras wonders, for a moment, if he will ever proudly wear his family colors again. How much of them will he be asked to give up in the years to come.

 

"With this kiss," Renly says, "I pledge my love and take you as my lord and husband."

 

"With this kiss," Loras echoes, "I pledge my love and take you as my lord and husband."

 

Loras wonders if Renly had got his words wrong - they couldn't both be lords, could they? - when he feels warm lips against his own and rises on his toes to meet the kiss.

 

They've kissed in front of crowds before. After Loras had unhorsed Jaime Lannister, he'd ridden down to the royal stands, thanked Renly for bestowing his favor on him, and asked for a kiss in return. Later, Renly had said that Stannis was grinding his teeth loud enough for everyone to hear and that Cersei had murder in her eyes, but all Loras remembered was the wind in Renly's dark hair as he bent over the stands to reach him, the sweet taste of his mouth, and the thrill in his veins that the whole world was watching.

 

They draw apart, and Loras notices for the first time what his new husband is wearing.His doublet is adorned with gold roses crafted so they emerge from the fabric, blossoming from the high neck and full sleeves of a deep blue-green silk. It makes his eyes... blue-green. Perhaps he has not taken Loras's cloak, but he's wearing Tyrell colors.

 

"Here in the sight of gods and men," says Septon Alyn, "I do solemnly proclaim Renly of House Baratheon and Loras of House Tyrell to be lord and husband, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever, and cursed be the one who comes between them."

 

_Cursed be the one who comes between them_

 

Loras had never before heard, really heard, how wonderfully violent marriage vows are. He sets a hand on Renly's shoulder and pulls him down to kiss him again. Renly kisses him back, deeper this time, and the way the hand curled on Loras's back tightens and the sigh on his lips are for him and him alone.

 

Loras's head floats, and he is sure his feet are not touching the ground. Renly takes his arm to lead him from the sept. The crowd is cheering, but Loras does not care. All that matters is his lover's strong arm, covered in gold roses, and Septon Alyn's words: 

_Cursed be the one who comes between them_


End file.
